


Proximity

by frek



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Sleep, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock reflects on an argument with John after John falls asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proximity

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally as [comment fic](http://frek.tumblr.com/post/42343021110/threadear-proximity-i-felt-compelled) in response [to this gorgeous artwork](http://threadear.tumblr.com/post/42288211028/proximity) by [threadear](http://threadear.tumblr.com).

Neither man knew exactly when the kissing and moans had devolved into shouting and shoving, but the evidence was clear by the forgotten clothing spread across the flat and the forlorn detective left alone on the sitting room floor. John had stormed off shortly after the fighting had escalated and crawled into the bed wearing nothing more than the red pants he had stripped down to earlier in anticipation of something more, a sheet pulled haphazardly over his body. He lay like that for a good half hour before the anger disippated and sleep took over, his breathing evening out, the fists his hands had balled into unclenching.

That was the way Sherlock had found John two hours later when he finally found the nerve to venture back into their room, eyes downcast, arms hanging limp at his sides. He stood in the doorway for several minutes at first, just watching John sleep in the light that shone in from behind him. John had kicked the sheet down in his sleep, the thin fabric bunched and wrapped around his legs and feet, his face buried in his pillow. Sherlock wondered if John had cried or if he had been too angry for tears. He knew the argument had been his fault, he had been wrong. Had messed up. The sorrow he felt for his actions and words didn't do anything to ease the guilt he felt for those same words and actions.

Sherlock let out a soft breath and stepped into the room, knowing that if John would wake up then, he'd probably cast him out, force him to spend the night alone in the sitting room. Thankfully, John didn't wake. Even as the door clicked shut behind Sherlock and he padded across the room, finding two of the loose floorboards beneath his feet. Sherlock wanted to crawl into the bed, to wrap his body around John's, arms and legs holding John close, feeling his every breath and movement against his own body. He knew that wasn't possible. He couldn't risk John waking.

Sherlock settled onto the floor beside the bed, stretching out along the side. It was cold on the floor, but knowing that John was mere inches away warmed Sherlock enough to allow him to relax against the bed. He looked up into John's face, the calm there nothing like the mask of anger he had stared into earlier that evening. He could just barely make out John's eyes moving beneath his lids, his lips parting as a soft sound escaped. He was dreaming, then, Sherlock realized. He hoped it didn't escalate into something worse. It wouldn't be the first time John had night terrors after a fight. Though after every one, Sherlock hoped it was the last.

Sherlock sighed and shifted against the bed, resting his head on the edge of the mattress. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, curling up tightly to keep warm. He didn't know how John was going to react in the morning, but he hoped that his head was clear, the anger gone. That John remembered that Sherlock loved him. And that John had forgiven him.


End file.
